


Hook

by Error401



Category: Original Work
Genre: Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Developing Relationship, Emotional/Psychological Abuse, Gen, Gun Violence, Kidnapping, M/M, Organized Crime, Past Abuse, Polyamory, Threats of Violence, Unhealthy Coping Mechanisms, Unhealthy Relationships, University, Violence
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-05-28
Updated: 2018-06-01
Packaged: 2019-05-14 22:19:51
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 8,236
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14778350
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Error401/pseuds/Error401
Summary: Vocal performance major Lark Jones really wishes he could stop being so nice to people. It hasn't done him any favors. But he didn't exactly expect it to get him shot, either.Now, having caught the attention of an unusually high number of powerful and dangerous people, Lark has to navigate a world that he never wanted to be a part of, and that he's not sure he's going to survive.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This is a "fandomless version" of Hook, with small edits and additional details.

 

# Chapter 1

## Ignite

Lark sighed, resting his head in his hand as he stared blankly over the counter.  
  
Normally, he would be reading his textbook for tomorrow’s class, but he’d forgotten it at his apartment in his haste to make it to work on time. L.A. traffic was no joke, even just the pedestrian kind. Now he had nothing to do but stare at the stocked shelves, bright lights, and the few people still wandering around so early in the morning as they passed the clear glass of the storefront.  
  
Humming under his breath, he let himself zone out for a moment, mentally cataloguing the things he still had to do for the week. Finish writing that Medieval History paper. Study for next week’s Psychology quiz. Reserve a music room to practice his vocal performance. Figure out what to buy Jason for his birthday in a few weeks. Remember to check in with the kids to make sure they were still alive and hadn’t drunk themselves to death. Give Bay another scathing lecture about responsibility.  
  
He glanced up as the door slid open, straightening his back and offering a polite, practiced smile to the man in the suit who’d stumbled in on shaky legs. He would have been handsome if he weren’t so sweaty and red-faced, his white shirt soaked through under his unbuttoned blazer. Well, actually, Lark had to admit that he was still handsome even in his rough condition, which wasn’t entirely fair.  
  
On closer inspection, it looked like he hadn’t slept well for weeks, dark circles smearing exhaustion across his expression. Lark set his mouth in a thin line even as his forehead furrowed in concern. He looked away. “Stop caring so much, you idiot,” he repeated like a mantra under his breath.  
  
The man staggered for a moment before disappearing behind a shelf.  
  
A few seconds later and he’d already staggered back, a bottle of hangover medicine and an energy drink slammed unceremoniously down on the counter in front of Lark. Lark hurriedly scanned the items, avoiding eye contact as he read the total. “Eight dollars, please,” he said.  
  
The man grumbled as he patted around his pockets until he managed to locate a credit card. Lark managed to snag it just as it fell out of the man’s fingers. Huffing in relief, Lark swiped the credit card himself.  
  
_Denied._ _  
_  
“Umm, sir, I’m sorry, but it says that your card was denied,” Lark said, holding the card in front of him with both hands. “Do you…maybe…have some other card or cash…?” Lark asked hesitantly. He felt bad for the guy.  
  
“What the heck,” the man muttered, fumbling around through his pockets again and coming out empty-handed. He stared at Lark despondently. “No, I guess not…” he sighed, words slurring together at the end. Because he was close to Lark’s height, when he hunched his shoulders in disappointment, it almost made him seem small.    
  
“Oh,” Lark said, fingers curling into fists. Stop caring so much. Stop caring so much! “How about…I just…” Lark sighed, pulling his own wallet from his back pocket. “You look like you need it, so…” He quickly bagged the two items, pushing the small bag towards the man.  
  
“Thanks…” the man said, voice despondent as he pulled it from the counter. “I…” he shook his head. “Thanks.”  
  
Lark nodded curtly, offering his trademarked polite smile as the man dragged himself from the store.  
  
“Idiot,” Lark sighed, rubbing a hand over his forehead. He needed that money.  
  
A snicker startled Lark from his self pity. “Well, that’s not a very nice thing to say about someone.”  
  
A man had slipped inside the doors while Lark had been distracted with the drunk. Lark flushed. “I wasn’t—“  
  
“No worries,” the man said lazily, throwing a disinterested hand in the air.  
  
Lark sighed again, eyes tracing the man as he meandered around the candy and cup noodles stocked near the front. He looked around Lark’s age, with dyed blonde hair and a tattered leather jacket clinging tightly to his frame. He was good looking, and with the way he carried himself, he probably knew it.  
  
“Will you buy this for me?” the man asked suddenly, grabbing an instant ramen package from the shelves and waving it at Lark.  
  
“Wh-what?” Lark spluttered. “No! I mean…can you really not afford it?” he asked hesitantly.  
  
“Aw,” the man said, lopsided grin revealing a spectacular dimple. “You would have really paid for it, wouldn’t you?” Lark made a choking noise. He really would have. Idiot.  
  
He sauntered up to the counter and slapped a fifty dollar bill on its surface. Lark stared at it. “Keep the change,” the man grinned, walking out with his ramen.  
  
“Wait, I have to ring that--!” Lark tried, but the man was already gone.  
  
He looked down at the large note, breaking it with the change left in the register and putting in the two dollars for the ramen. He didn’t know what to do with the leftover money. Who on earth just gave away fifty dollars for instant ramen? It felt wrong, dirty even, to think of pocketing it. He made a mental note to donate it to the next church he passed.  
  
He paused, catching himself.  
  
“Stop caring so much, Lark!”  
  
What a strange night.  
  
***********  
  
“Lark!”  
  
“Huh? What? I’m awake!” Lark spluttered, nearly rolling out of bed in his haste to get up.  
  
“Right,” Kal said bluntly. “You have class in half an hour.”  
  
Eyes widening, Lark turned to the clock next to his bed and gasped. What was with him lately? He was never late. Never! Was this some kind of karma for trying to be less nice to people? “Thanks, Kal!” he said, rushing to his closet and throwing on the first things he could lay hands on. He scrambled into the bathroom and combed his dark hair while simultaneously brushing his teeth, starting to sweat from the stress.  
  
On his way out the door, Kal thrust a full travel mug into his hands, the strong scent of coffee already helping to wake him up.  
  
“Thanks,” Lark said, slowing down a little to convey his appreciation. “Really, Kal—“  
  
“Ten minutes,” Kal said.  
  
Lark booked it.  
  
He was still five minutes late to the lecture, skulking into one of the back-row seats, but the lecture hall was so large that he doubted anyone besides the few people near the door even noticed.  
  
He glanced at the lecture slides being displayed on a gigantic screen at the front center of the room. “Narcissistic Personality Disorder,” the first one read, and Lark sighed in relief. Personality disorders. He knew about those. He didn’t miss anything, after all.  
  
Lark wasn’t a Psychology major, but he’d always found the subject interesting. It wasn’t very difficult to learn, and it never hurt to know more about how people’s brains worked, particularly his own. It was a way to compartmentalize. To rationalize. To somehow explain the stupid, emotional side of himself that continually made bad decisions.

  
His phone vibrated in his pocket, and Lark pulled it out to read it under the lecture table.  
  
Fr: Bay  
Lunch????? Y/N?????  
Y  
  
Lark rolled his eyes.  
  
Fr: Lark  
Where?  
  
Fr: Bay  
Jas brought leftovers yest. Our place?  
  
Fr: Lark  
K  
  
He would never pass up greasy Chinese food, especially when it was free.  
  
Bay was always…a little too much for Lark. He was the ultimate free spirit compacted into a tiny, energetic body. While he was glad they were friends, he was often just as glad that they were no longer roommates. He kept Lark young, but gave him grey hairs at the same time. Bay had definitely found a more suitable roommate in Jason. He was willing to go along with whatever Bay wanted, and he seemed to have an unearthly tolerance for whining. They’d moved to an apartment near but off campus because Jason was too tall to fit comfortably inside student housing.  
  
“Remember, quiz next week!” the professor announced, students flipping notebooks closed and shutting laptop lids.  
  
Lark looked down at his notebook, startled to see he had written exactly nothing. _Stupid_.  
  
The person in the seat next to him dropped their book with a startled cry, and Lark leaned down hurriedly to pick it up. Still in a half daze, he hit the back of his head against the table top on the way back up. “Ouch,” he grumbled, rubbing at the back of his head as he handed the book back with a smile.  
  
“Are…are you okay?” the other student asked, concern in his voice.  
  
“I’m fine, just an idiot,” Lark replied, smile more sincere this time even as his skull radiated with pain.  
  
“Hey, do you…maybe, want to copy my notes?” the other student offered, almond eyes sparkling. “You came in late, and then you didn’t write anything down, so I figured maybe something was up.”  
  
Lark stared, surprised. “Would that be okay?” he wondered. “I don’t want to put you out, or anything.”  
  
“Oh, it’s completely fine!” he said happily. “This is my only class today, anyway.”  
  
“Thank you, ugh…” Lark said, looking at him expectantly.  
  
“Lucien,” the student proffered, “but I go by Luke. I’m actually a grad student, but they let us get away with taking an easy elective to avoid complete brain melt.” He did seem oddly _nicely_ dressed for a college class, with dark-washed jeans and a collared shirt, both slim-fit against his lean but apparent muscles. .  
  
“You look even younger than me!” Lark said, surprised. “I’m Lark. Lark Jones. Well, really, thank you. If you don’t mind, I can just copy these quickly at the library and give them back to you.”  
  
“Of course,” Luke smiled, his grin childish and endearing.  
  
They left the building together, Lark holding Luke’’s notebook to his chest like it was treasure and Luke smiling happily at nothing. “So, why were you late today?” Luke said, reaching out to pull a bit of fuzz off of Lark’s threadbare sweater, hand brushing over his chest.

  
“I’m honestly not sure,” Lark admitted, quirking his brow at the unusually familiar gesture and fighting the overreactive flash of panic that unexpected touch tended to provoke. “I worked late, I mean—early—today, but I usually always do, and I’ve never woken up late before. I guess it’s just bad luck this time.”  
  
“But you met me, so is it really?” Luke joked.  
  
“I guess I can’t argue with that,” Lark smiled wryly.  
  
Lark copied the notes quickly with the library scanner, emailing them to his school account as he offered Lucien’s notebook back with both hands. “Again, thank you so much. I don’t know where my head was at today.”  
  
“Hey, no problem! I’m happy to help after you practically gave yourself a concussion!” he laughed, cheeks rosy.  
  
“Hey,” Lark said, tilting his head in consideration. “I know you said you only have one class today, but are you busy right now?”  
  
“I’m free as a bird! Why?” Luke asked.  
  
“Do you like Chinese food?”  
  
************  
  
“Put the chicken down, Jason!” Bay shrieked, holding his chopsticks like a weapon as he circled the couch, with Jason mirroring his movements on the other side.  
  
“I’m the one who brought the food, so I can eat what I want!” Jason growled back, petulantly stuffing his cheeks with the meat.  
  
“I hate you! Stupid, big-eared—“  
  
“I brought a guest,” Lark interrupted, shaking his head as he closed the door behind himself and Luke. Jae and Grant were watching the show from the living room carpet, and Kal was leaning against the kitchen doorframe, the corner of his mouth subtly turned upwards. Lark had gotten much better at reading his moods, even with the slightest twitch of an eyebrow.  
  
“Luke, these are my…friends,” Lark sighed, watching with embarrassment as Bay vaulted over the couch and clung to Jason, reaching futilely for the takeout box.  
  
“Hello!” Luke waved, not put off in the slightest.  
  
“There’s more food in the kitchen,” Kal said, baritone voice filling the room in a way that even Bay’s screaming couldn’t.     
  
“This is Kal,” Lark said, leading Luke into the kitchen. “Kal, this is Luke from my Psychology class. He’s a grad student.”  
  
Kal dipped his head in greeting, but said nothing otherwise, eyes following Bay and Jason’s battle. He never spoke much around people he didn’t know well.  
  
Lark grabbed the nearest container, which happened to be filled with fried rice, sticking it into the microwave.  
  
“Wow, so much food!” Luke marveled at the full table.  
  
“Jason works at a Chinese chain restaurant that clears itself out every Thursday night. Everyone else who works there is sick of the food and the potential for food poisoning, so Jason just takes it all.” Lark explained, as Luke peered into the containers.  
  
“I’m going to kill you!” Bay screamed from the living room.  
  
“Should we be worried about that?” Luke questioned.  
  
“No,” Lark said. “Bay would never hurt Jason. I’m not actually sure he physically can.”  
  
Not that Lark was in any place to judge, he was probably even shorter than Bay was. He liked to think his cheekbones had more character, though.  
  
“Looks can be deceiving,” Luke said mysteriously, waggling his eyebrows.  
  
Lark let out a huff of laughter, glancing at Kal as he continued to watch the two bickering in the other room. “Believe me, with friends like mine, I am aware.” He pulled his fried rice from the microwave and was about to take his first bite when there was a loud thunk from the living room.  
  
“Lark!” Jae cried, racing into the kitchen with Grant hot on his heels. “Bay’s bleeding!”

“What?!” Lark said, turning an accusatory eye on the expressionless Kal. “Why didn’t you stop them? You were watching!”  
  
“Some lessons can only be learned by experience,” Kal shrugged.  
  
Lark abandoned his food on the table as he rushed into the living room.  
  
“Bay? Bay? Are you okay? Where does it hurt?” Jason hovered nervously over Bay, who was sprawled on the couch with a hand over his left temple. “I’m sorry, I--! Bay! Why aren’t you talking? Bay?”  
  
“Because my head hurts, Bigfoot!” Bay grumbled, sitting up slowly and grimacing as his hand came away bloody.  
  
“Let me look at it,” Lark said, nudging Jason to the side and carefully pushing Bay’s hair from his forehead. It was just a small cut, maybe a few centimeters long, but it was bleeding profusely. “It doesn’t look too bad, but we need to apply pressure.”  
  
“Here,” Luke appeared at Lark’s side with a hand towel. Lark accepted it gratefully, pressing it to Bay’s head. The latter hissed but held still, raising his own hand to maintain the pressure so that Lark could let go.  
  
“What happened?” Lark asked, unable to prevent glaring at Jason.  
  
“I didn’t mean to! He just got tangled and tripped!” Jason whined. It was odd, to say the least, coming from such a large person.  
  
“It’s not his fault,” Bay said, wincing as he pressed harder. “Hit the table edge on the way down.”  
  
Lark just shook his head and shuffled to the bathroom, pulling the first aid kit from under the sink. He set the kit on the coffee table before rifling through its contents, pulling out gauze and surgical tape as well as medicated ointment. He turned to Jason.  
  
“Jace, make sure he keeps pressure on that for a few minutes. If it’s stopped bleeding or looks like it’s clotting, tape his head. If it’s still bleeding, come get me. Okay?” Lark said patiently.  
  
“Kay,” Jason mumbled, gingerly sitting next to Bay on the couch and staring at him pensively, like he was afraid to touch him.  
  
Lark nodded and returned to the kitchen, only to find Jae and Grant eating the rice he’d heated up. “Really?” he frowned, picking up another container at random and sticking it in the microwave.  
  
“Sorry, Lark,” Grant said sheepishly. “We were hungry.”  
  
“What good are you if you won’t even let me eat?” Lark muttered in mock outrage. “Oh, it’s fine. There’s plenty left.”  
  
“Hmm,” Luke said, eyeing Lark with an interested grin as he leaned against the table. “Everyone comes to you in an emergency.”  
  
Lark sighed. “I’m the mom friend. Against my will. They would probably die if I didn’t at least try to patch them up.”  
  
“You ran out of here awful fast for it to be against your will,” Luke said.  
  
Lark shrugged, uncomfortable with the attention.  
  
“Lark,” Kal said. “You have class in half an hour.”  
  
“What? Already?” Lark whined. He sighed, rubbing his hand over his forehead. “Okay. Kal, make sure Bay doesn’t bleed to death, alright?” Kal didn’t respond, just gave him an unimpressed look.  
  
Lark shouldered his school bag and nodded to Luke. “Sorry about this. I didn’t realize the time. I don’t mean to abandon you.”  
  
“Oh, I think I can keep myself entertained,” Luke smiled. “But, aren’t you going to eat?”  
  
“I’ll grab something later,” Lark waved it off. “I’ll see you in class, Luke”  
  
He steadfastly ignored the puppy eyes that Jason was sending him from the couch, rushing out the door in a hurry to get back to campus on time. Just one thing thrown off in his day, and everything else was following suit. It was a guarantee that he would never be late again.  
  
***********  
  
Lark was late again.  
  
He burst into the convenience store with no air in his lungs and sweat-slicked hair plastered to his forehead. His coworker barely gave him time to inhale before she pulled her vest off and pushed past him. “Sor—“ Lark tried, but she was already gone.  
  
“Ugh,” Lark groaned, shuffling behind the counter and shrugging the uniform vest on over his clothes, pushing his backpack next to his feet.  
  
“I was wondering when you would get here,” someone said, and Lark jumped, startled, putting a hand over his chest. “I’ve been waiting here forever. I have better things to do, you know.”  
  
He looked around frantically before spotting the same man from yesterday, the one with the leather jacket, step out from behind a shelf. His blonde hair was neatly styled, and his clothing was much more formal. Lark had to wonder what, exactly, he did for a living.     
  
“You…were waiting for me?” Lark said incredulously. “Why? Actually, how did you know I’d be here tonight?” The last thing he needed was a stalker, even if it was good looking one.  
  
“I asked your manager,” the man shrugged.  
  
“He’s not legally allowed to tell you that! And again, why would you do that?” Lark said suspiciously.  
  
“Hey, I don’t have any ill intent,” the man said, putting his hands in the air defensively. “I was just curious.”  
  
“About?” Lark pressed.  
  
“What he’s going to do,” the man said, crossing his arms over his chest.  
  
Lark stared at him blankly. He was running off of caffeine and desperation, and he didn’t want to deal with any suspicious characters when he had homework to do. “Okay, I’m not going to pretend I have any idea what you’re talking about, but I also don’t really care that much.” He sighed, wiping at his forehead with the back of his arm. “Oh, but, hold on—“ Lark said, reaching into his bag. “Here,” he pulled out the money the man had overpaid last night.  
  
“Are you seriously giving that back to me?” the man said, approaching the counter.  
  
“Of course I am! It’s not mine!” Lark said, almost offended.  
  
“Well, I don’t want it back, either!” the man said.  
  
“That’s not my problem!” Lark said, holding the money out.  
  
“I’d say it is.”  
  
“Look, just take the money and go away, would you!” Lark said, shaking his hands for emphasis.  
  
The man took hold of Lark’s wrist and attempted to shove the handful of bills back in his direction, but Lark stubbornly resisted, even over the spike of fear. “Stop it!” Lark huffed, becoming slightly concerned at how strong the man’s grip was.  
  
One moment, the man was laughing in his face, and the next, he was being tackled to the ground by a blur in a business suit.  
  
Lark stared, frozen, as the two figures rolled around on the laminate floor in front of the counter.  
  
“Call the police!” the man in the suit said, trying to wrestle the first man’s arms behind his back.  
  
“What the hell?” the first man said, using his legs to buck the suited man off of him. He threw a punch, and then they were rolling around again, limbs flying.  
  
“Hey!” Lark said, heart seizing. “Hey, stop it!”  
  
They didn’t listen.

  
It was clear that both of them had some kind of defense or martial arts training, because while they continued to maneuver, neither one of them was gaining an upper hand. It was a lot of twisting and turning and grunted expletives.  
  
“Hey!” Lark screamed, hopping the counter. “What the hell are you doing?!”  
  
“Jun, fucking—!” the blonde man yelled. “It’s Rome, you _idiota_ !”  
  
“Huh?” the man in the suit paused, narrowing his eyes. “Rome?”  
  
“Yeah, Rome!” the man rolled his eyes, pushing the man in the suit off of him.  
  
“Oh,” Jun blinked. “Rome, why were you robbing this store?”  
  
“I wasn’t robbing the store, you—“  
  
“Would you both please get off the floor?” Lark sighed, trying to calm his pounding heart.  
  
“Oh!” Jun said, cheeks flushing as he scrambled onto his feet. “I…I’m sorry, I…I guess I misunderstood. I just…he was trying to take your money, and—“  
  
“No, I was trying to get him to keep the money!” Rome said, climbing to his feet with a groan. “Because you were so drunk yesterday that you let this college student buy your drink for you! You’re just as much of a loser as I thought you’d be.”  
  
“I…” Jun sighed. “I barely remember last night.” He pulled his phone from his trouser pocket, fiddling with it before he turned the screen towards Lark. Lark was confused before he realized that it was a blurry picture taken of him through the glass of the storefront, the store’s name and logo emblazoned on the door. “I found this in my phone. I guess drunk me at least remembered that he wanted to pay you back.”  
  
“That’s…nice?” Lark said, still a little overwhelmed at what was going on. Remembering his original goal, he approached Rome intently.  
  
“Wha—“ Rome began, but before he could react, Lark had stuffed the handful of bills down the front of his shirt.  
  
“Now it’s your problem again,” Lark shrugged.  
  
Rome stared, wide-eyed.

  
“Now, would you guys leave? I’m working,” Lark said, stepping behind the counter again.  
  
“Oh, okay, but I was just going to pay you—“ Jun tried.  
  
“No,” Lark said.

“But—“  
  
“No,” Lark repeated sternly.  
  
“Would you just—“  
  
“No!” Lark said, pulling his history book from his bag and slamming it on the counter.  
  
“Drunk me remembers you being much nicer than this,” Jun mumbled.  
  
“We have to pay you back,” Rome said.  
  
“Too bad,” Lark said petulantly, fear sufficiently overcome by annoyance.  
  
“Look, we literally have to return the favor!” Rome said, frustrated. “Why won’t you just take the money?”  
  
“Because you made me mad, and now I don’t feel like it,” Lark said bluntly. “It’s a few dollars. Just let it go, and more importantly, leave! Unless…you buy something,” he added grudgingly. “And pay the actual amount this time!”  
  
“You’re the only person I’ve met in this place who won’t take free money,” Rome said. “Is there something wrong with your head?”  
  
“Rome!” Jun hissed. “You can’t just say things like that!”  
  
“I can do whatever I want, actually,” Rome shrugged. “Got a problem with that, partner?”  
  
The sound of shattering glass. Shards exploding over the floor, as chips and soup went flying from the shelves.  
  
Lark didn’t understand what had happened, until the two men were sprinting behind the counter and shoving Lark down to the floor. “That was sooner than I expected,” Rome said, keeping his hand on Lark’s shoulder.  
  
“They had a chance, and they took it,” Jun frowned, daring to peer over the edge of the counter.  
  
“Are we being shot at?” Lark said incredulously. “What…what the…” he stuttered, beginning to feel faint.  
  
“Oh, shit,” Rome said, maneuvering Lark’s body like it was nothing until he had a clear view of Lark’s side. “Graze,” he said, like it was nothing. “Still losing some blood.”  
  
Lark looked down to follow his line of sight until his eyes hit the bloody gash by the top of his ribs. He hadn’t even felt it. “Oh,” Lark said, eyes widening. “That looks like it should hurt more.”  
  
“You’re probably a bit in shock,” Jun said, eyes softening as though in concern. “Just hold still, and we’ll get you out of here, okay?”

“Someone should really apply pressure to that,” Lark said absently, head spinning.  
  
Rome pulled a gun from the back of his waistband.  
  
“I have homework,” Lark protested, vision beginning to spot.  
  
“Yeah, I don’t care,” Rome said.  
  
“We still owe him, Ro,” Jun said calmly.  
  
“I hate this,” Rome complained.  
  
“Me too!” Lark said.  
  
“Well then you should have just taken the money!”  
  
It was a circular argument, and Lark was getting really tired. Sighing, he rested his head against the inside of the counter, eyes fluttering shut.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Some changes made, but nothing super dramatic.

#  Chapter 2

##  Exhaust

Lark’s first thought, as he lurched awake on the backseat of a moving car, was that he couldn’t believe he’d been shot for a measly eight dollars. His second thought, strangely enough, was that the car he was in smelled strongly of leather and polish, like it was new, or it had just been detailed. It had been a long time since he’d been inside a car.   
  
“Hey, hey,” a voice said, and hands were pulling Lark back to rest his head against a firm thigh. “Don’t move, we’re taking you to a doctor. I apologize for the potholes and Ro’s driving, but there’s not much I can do about either of them.”   
  
Lark blinked, hit with a sudden, nauseous roiling in his stomach and searing pain in his torso, piercing the fog of his confusion. “Let me out,” Lark managed to rasp, jerking forward again as he felt the bile rising in his throat.   
  
“Just hang on for a few more—“   
  
“I need to be sick, stop the car!” Lark groaned in a panic, bringing his hand up to cover his mouth.   
  
“Ro, pull over!” the voice said from next to him, and the car did stop a few seconds later.   
  
Lark wasted no time in pawing at the door latch, yanking it open just in time to throw himself out and fall to his knees, ejecting the meager contents of his already-empty stomach onto the side of a city street. It was mostly bile, as he hadn’t eaten all day, but it still burned his throat and pricked at his eyes. He startled when a hand began rubbing up and down his back, but he couldn’t do anything to stop it. He felt incredibly weak and light-headed, sweat-soaked and shaking.   
  
Looking blearily down at his body, he found that someone had taped a square of cloth over his bullet wound, but he must have lost a significant amount of blood, his clothes ruined by dark, rust-red stains. He should probably have felt more immediate concern for his apparent kidnapping.   
  
“It’s probably the blood loss causing the nausea,” Jun said, mirroring Lark’s thoughts. “It was deeper than what Ro originally thought, and by the time we were able to look at it—“   
  
Lark heaved in and out, every breath painful due to pulling at the wound. “What happened?” he croaked, squeezing his eyes shut as he fought a wave of dizziness.   
  
“Bad guys tried to kill us. They didn’t. People are cleaning up the mess as we speak, and your store will be in perfect condition in the next few hours. Your replacement will get the explanation that someone threw a rock and shattered the glass. You got hit and had to leave. All nice and neat,” Rome said, sounding bored as he recited their imaginary scenario. He must have gotten out of the car as Lark threw up. Another pair of headlights glowed behind the SUV he’d rushed out of, but neither Rome nor Jun seemed worried about the tail, so it must have been on their side.    
  
“The money,” Lark said, risking sitting up on his heels.   
  
“What?” Jun asked, trying to help steady Lark but pausing when he noticed Lark’s wince.   
  
“I leant you eight dollars. Give me the money, and we’ll be even,” Lark said tiredly. “Right? Isn’t that what you were saying before? Isn’t that how it works?”   
  
“You were hurt because we were both in your store, and you really should see a doctor,” Jun said, eyes wide and sincere. Lark didn’t trust it for one second. Why was he ignoring his questions?   
  
“I don’t trust you,” Lark said. “Please just end it, whatever it is. Give me what you owe and leave it at that. I can’t be involved in whatever this is, whatever gang or drug thing you two are a part of. Please, just leave me out of it.”   
  
“You complicated things by taking a shot that was meant for us,” Rome said, almost angry-sounding. “This is entirely your fault.”   
  
Lark stared at him uneasily, hearing the words but unable to understand what he was saying. “I didn’t  _ take  _ anything, I just got hit! I don’t understand—” he cut himself off as his stomach twisted again, leaning forward as his body continued to attempt to dry heave his insides onto the uneven cement of the dimly lit alley. It was a cool night, but his body was shivering like it was freezing. Dehydration?   
  
“The rules don’t make a distinction, unlucky for us,” Rome said.   
  
“Rome, not now!” Jun hissed, noticing the water pooling in Lark’s eyes. “Would you please let us take you to see our family doctor? I would swear on anything you wanted that we aren’t trying to do anything bad to you. We just want to make sure you’re okay.”   
  
“Did you take my bag, at least?” Lark asked, unsure of why he was suddenly on the verge of tears. “I have homework, and—Kal must be wondering where I am! What time is it? I have so much to do, I don’t…I don’t have time for this!” Lark rambled, struggling to his feet and nearly falling again before catching himself on the side of the luxury vehicle he was being driven in.   
  
“If you miss any homework, our doctor will write you an excuse,” Jun said patiently, hands twitching at his sides like he wanted to reach out but was forcibly stopping himself. “It won’t take much time, but you need to get checked out. Please? Hmm?” His brown almond eyes were deceptively deep, and Lark felt like he could fall into them if he stared for too long.    
  
“I just want to go home,” Lark said, voice cracking as he leaned heavily against the door, wound pulsing with pain. He only closed his eyes for a second, but somehow there was a pair of arms supporting his entire weight as he was gently laid back inside over the leather.   
  
“He’s bleeding again,” Rome’s more stern voice said, phantom fingers tracing the badly taped dressing as he leaned into the back seat to look over Lark’s sprawled body. “ _ Cazzo _ ...kid being difficult…”   
  
“Because he’s a  _ kid _ , Ro, and he just got hurt! He wouldn’t have even been touched if we hadn’t both been there, and we…at least, I wouldn’t have been there unless I owed him. You know how rough its been for the family with Yosuke’s passing, and… Speaking of, why were you even there tonight in the first place?”   
  
“We should get him to that doctor,” Rome said, moving to climb into the driver’s seat as Jun sighed and shifted Lark slightly so that he could slide into the back with him. “Where the fuck am I going?” The only thing Lark remembered after that was clammy skin, exhaustion, and pain. He’d never felt this badly in his entire life--which was really saying something-- and it was taking a toll on his ability to think and process what was going on around him.   
  
He was only aware that he was being moved by the flaring pain in his side every time he was jostled, arms grasping his shoulders and more arms supporting his waist. His brain felt overloaded with sensory information that it desperately wanted to reject, but his limbs were disconnected from any and all voluntary action. They went through a rusted door deeply inset into a grey-bricked building smothered with graffiti. The interior hallways were dim and bare of both people and decoration. The floor seemed to rise up to meet his face every time he looked down. Eventually, they stopped moving, and Lark was set on top of a cushioned surface, blinking dully up at a new person who entered his frame of vision, a shape that began to take on detail.

 

It looked like he was in an amalgamation of a study and a doctor’s office, sitting on an examination table but surrounded by dark wood furniture and plush carpeting.    
  
“What’s his name?” the new figure asked, though it sounded almost muted to Lark’s ears.   
  
“Oh, umm…” Jun’s softer voice said. “I don’t know. Rome?” No response.   
  
“Okay,” the stranger sighed, and then there were hands on Lark’s clothes. “What’s your name, young man?”   
  
“Wha—“ Lark struggled feebly, trying to push them off. “Stop…”   
  
“I just want to look at the injury, alright?” the stranger said. “I’m going to have to cut your shirt off, and I need you to stay still. Can you do that for me?”   
  
“No, I don’t--,” Lark whispered fearfully, trying to focus his gaze on the figure in front of him.

 

“He’s going to help you,” Jun said, appearing at Lark’s side, voice soft like he was speaking to a frightened animal. Well, it wasn’t the most inaccurate comparison. Lark was terrified. “He just wants to take your shirt off so that he can patch you up and stop the bleeding. You’re safe here. You’re safe.”

 

Lark swallowed, still unwilling, but he didn’t see any other way out of the situation. Let them do what they wanted, don’t resist, and then maybe he would get out of it alive. Maybe it would hurt less. He nodded slowly, dropping his hands where they’d been covering his torso.    
  
“And your name?” the man pressed.   
  
“L...Luke,” he said hesitantly, squeezing his eyes shut so that he wouldn’t have to watch the blade approach his skin. It was the first name that came to mind. And it was probably for the best that these people didn’t know his real name. The responsive noise of disgust from Rome, who was standing across the room, made him think he’d made the wrong choice. But they couldn’t have known otherwise, could they? A few snipping noises, and his chest was exposed to the cool air, sending even more goosebumps rippling over his bare skin.   
  
“What a mess you’re in here, Luke,” the man said, gloved fingertips pressing against Lark’s skin. Lark hissed at the pain, his fingertips scrabbling to clench the material of the cushion he was seated on. The man turned to the nearby Jun, who hovered a few feet away from the table. “It’ll need stitches. He’s lost a significant amount of blood, but I don’t think it’s remotely life-threatening considering his current functionality and responsiveness. It’s not near the level of shock I normally see in major trauma. He’ll just feel very lethargic and dizzy until he has time to rest.”   
  
“Can you give him something for the pain?” Jun asked, brow furrowed as he took in the massive bruise that had painted itself over Lark’s side from the internal bleeding. “And he threw up earlier, if that’s important. Or, I mean, he tried. Nothing much came out.”   
  
“Luke, when’s the last time you ate or drank something?” the doctor asked, tilting his head up and staring into his eyes.   
  
“Coffee…this morning?” Lark said tiredly.   
  
“Get him an I.V., immediately,” the doctor said, turning to address someone else in the room. “Dehydration combined with blood loss is probably why this is affecting him to this extent. Luke, are you in pain anywhere else?”   
  
“I don’t know…” Lark said tiredly, letting his head fall forward to loll against his chest. “It hurts too much to tell.”   
  
“Doctor, the pain?” Jun asked again. “If it’s your fee you’re worried about, then be assured that you’ll receive the usual for your discretion.”   
  
The man sighed. “That’s not my concern, Mr. Yamato. Because his stomach is already empty, we could sedate him without issue. However, if he wants to take pain meds and stay awake, I can only offer over-the-counter level stuff to avoid irritating it even more.”   
  
Lark was having a very hard time keeping up with the conversation.   
  
“Knock him out,” Rome said. “He can eat when he wakes up.”   
  
“Ro, that’s not our deci—“   
  
“He’s tired, in pain, and barely aware. Knock him out, doc.”   
  
Lark agreed, he was tired. But also afraid. He never even felt the prick of the needle.   
  
************   
  
His eyes were so crusty that it took a moment for Lark to crack them open, blinking blearily up at a ridiculously high, arched ceiling. He tried to push himself up, but found that not only was his hand attached to an I.V. line, but it was also attached to someone else’s.   
  
“Jun?” Lark rasped, throat dry and sore.   
  
The man jolted awake from where he’d been sleeping on his folded arms, panicked and automatically reaching for something at his waist-level. “What? What’s wrong? Are you okay?”   
  
“I guess,” Lark said, looking around the room. He was in a living room, lying on the largest couch he’d ever seen. Light was spilling in from floor-to-ceiling windows. “Tired, still. My stomach and side hurt. Am I at your house?”   
  
“Oh, no, this is just a hotel suite,” Jun said. “Luke…I’m a little embarrassed that this is the first time I’m saying your name, considering the trouble that we’ve caused.”   
  
“That was the first time I said yours,” Lark evaded, suppressing an exhausted yawn. “Can I go home, now? You fixed me. You paid me back. So...we’re good, right?”

 

Jun frowned, letting out an elegant sigh. “I’m afraid not.” 

 

Lark wanted to scream with frustration, but he was distracted by the position of the sun, of how late in the day it seemed. His eyes widened as the realization hit him. “Do you have my phone? What time is it? I…my roommate’s probably going crazy!” Jun stood from his uncomfortable position on the floor and shuffled into another room, retrieving Lark’s backpack.   
  
Lark quickly grabbed it, wincing when stretching his arms pulled at the stitches, and dug through its contents until he found his cell phone. “Dead,” Lark lamented. “Just like I’m going to be.”   
  
“At least it’s the weekend,” Jun offered, eyeing him with amusement. “Certainly, you don’t have class today, do you? Is your roommate really so scary?”   
  
“He has his moments,” Lark said dejectedly. “Where’s…your friend?”   
  
“Ro? Oh, he said something about getting food for when you wake up. I told him we could just order room service, but he hates spending the extra money. He even thought we should have just stayed at a motel. He’s ridiculous sometimes,” Jun shook his head, the corner of his mouth turned into a smile. “He acts like he’s destitute.”   
  
The conversation drew to an awkward silence, and Lark began to squirm under the quilt they’d thrown over him. He didn’t know whose clothes he was wearing, and he didn’t want to know how he’d gotten into them. It was too weird. It was uncomfortable, and it was still kind of scary, even if Jun hadn’t acted remotely threatening towards him. “I should really go home,” Lark said, looking down at the needle piercing the top of his hand.    
  
“What? At least wait to eat something first,” Jun said, looking incredibly offended for what Lark had thought was a reasonable desire. It made him suspicious that they were trying to keep him there for some ulterior motive. Organ trafficking?  _ Human  _ trafficking? Who knew what these people were involved in?    
  
“I’m really…confused,” Lark said. “Why do you care? Why do you want me to stay?”   
  
“Like I said before, it’s our fault that you’re like this!” Jun said, pained. “And we owe you a debt, now. Both of us. Not just me, like it was before.”   
  
“But I’m telling you that you  _ don’t _ ,” Lark insisted. “I just want to forget any of this ever happened.” He coughed due to the dryness in his throat, scrunching his face together in pain.   
  
“That’s not…how it works, exactly. Rome and I…we…it’s very complicated, you see,” Jun hedged, smoothing out a wrinkle in his shirt.    
  
“I really don’t,” Lark said.   
  
“Rome and I come from very old families that run on a very particular set of rules. It is the way things have always been done. Even now, when Ro and I are…changing things. We must still follow the rules. And the rules say that we must take care of you. If you had died, we would have been obligated to take care of your family.”   
  
“But how is that remotely fair to me?” Lark said seriously, pulse quickening in fear at the thought of being caught up in something that he was in no way prepared for. “I’m not part of your families. I’m not bound by your rules. But you’re forcing me to be.”   
  
Jun looked taken aback, mouth opening and closing as he tried to form an answer. “Luke—“   
  
“I brought food!” Rome yelled, kicking open the door and dropping an armful of plastic grocery bags on the floor. He glanced up, noticing Lark and Jun. “You’re awake,” he deadpanned.   
  
“You sound so happy about it, too,” Lark said, immediately cursing himself for his stupidity. Why was it that the more uncouth of the gangsters always managed to get a rise out of him?   
  
“Luke, how old are you?” Jun asked suddenly.   
  
“Why?” Lark said, suspicious.   
  
“Simple curiosity,” Jun said, holding his hands in the air defensively.   
  
“Twenty-one,” Lark said, for some reason feeling more than a little self-conscious.   
  
“He really is a baby,” Rome muttered, tossing a few bags at Jun.   
  
“What? Then how old are you, grandpa?” Lark said.   
  
“You don’t need to know,” Rome shot back.   
  
“But you do need to eat,” Jun said, rifling through one of the bags. “Damn it, Ro! This is all junk food! What did you do, buy out the closest bodega?”   
  
“He’s a kid! He likes it!” Rome said defensively.   
  
“I’ll take anything at this point, my stomach is eating itself,” Lark said, a bit more desperately than he’d intended. At the sight of the food, it was suddenly all he could think about. It really had been a long time since he’d had a good meal. And, most importantly, it didn’t seem like he was getting human trafficked anytime soon. His cowardly self was subsumed by his hungry one. “Is there coffee?”   
  


***************    
  
Lark had to be helped to the car. He was still unsteady on his feet, and his side was throbbing. He was just expecting a little bit of support, but Rome swept him off his feet almost condescendingly. “Don’t get used to it,  _ principessa _ .” Lark was so offended that he failed to come up with a response.   
  
The ride to his apartment was relatively quiet, Lark nearly falling asleep to the usual traffic music of honking horns as he leaned his head against the window. He startled when he was touched again. “This is the place?” Jun questioned him gently, resting a hand on his shoulder. Lark nodded sleepily, unbuckling his seatbelt.   
  
“Thank you for the ride,” Lark said, climbing out slowly. Desperately hoping that they would just let him go without any problems.    
  
“Where do you think you’re going?” Rome said, rolling down the window. “Can you even make it to your place in one piece?”   
  
“I’ll do my best,” Lark said, taking a tentative step forward. He was satisfied when his head didn’t spin and his vision didn’t blur. “Goodbye.”   
  
“Wait!” Jun said.   
  
Lark turned to him in question, tilting his head. He just wanted to get inside. Get away from the crazy. Get away from this insane odyssey that made no sense in the context of his world.    
  
“I just...Goodbye, Luke.”   
  
“I’m gonna’ watch you walk from here because I don’t think you can make it,” Rome said.   
  
Lark rolled his eyes and sighed. “No offense, but I hope we never meet again.” He did sweat profusely, but he made it inside the building without incident. No matter which way he moved, his side hurt, and he figured he would just have to get used to it. Stepping in the elevator, he began to worry. Was Kal worried? How worried would he be? Lark hated making people worry.   
  
The second Lark stepped into his apartment, he was rushed by a small, angry body. He couldn’t help but scream when Kal’s arm pressed against the wound in his side, and Kal immediately let go. “Lark, what the actual fuck! What’s wrong with you? Where have you been? Are you hurt?” he peppered Lark with questions and outrage. Without asking for permission, he yanked Lark’s borrowed shirt up and gasped when he took in the large bruise and square of gauze.   
  
“Is this the roommate you were worried about?” another unfamiliar voice said, and an extraordinarily tall man approached them where they stood in the entryway. His features were sharp and defined, something serious about the way he held himself. “Lark Jones, right? I guess my job is done, after all.” His eyes then narrowed as they, too, examined Lark’s pained state. “Or maybe not.”   
  
“Who…?” Lark wondered, looking between Kal and the tall man.   
  
“Detective John Richter,” the man said, nodding. “I was buying coffee when your friend spotted my badge inside my jacket and insisted that you were missing, and even though it hadn’t been forty-eight hours, he was sure something bad had happened to you. By the looks of that, he wasn’t wrong. That’s a nasty looking injury.”   
  
“A rock,” Lark said quickly.   
  
“A what?” Kal said, fingers curling into Lark’s sleeve.   
  
“At my job, someone…someone threw a rock through the window. It hit me, and I had to go to the hospital. I fell asleep, and then by the time I’d woken up, my phone was dead. Sorry for worrying you, Kal.”   
  
“That’s a large fuckin’ bruise for a rock,” the detective said, eyes narrowing slightly.   
  
“It was a big rock,” Lark shrugged.   
  
“Lark, I can’t believe that something like that would happen! That’s ridiculous! Who throws  _ rocks  _ nowadays?! What happened to the traditional smash and grab?” He took a moment to calm himself down, hands on his slim hips as he heaved a deep sigh and all expression melted from his face, returning to his usual cool demeanor. He pulled out his phone and began to type. “I have to tell everyone you’re alive, I guess.”   
  
“Well, I’m glad to see you’re okay.” Detective Richter paused for a moment, gears turning behind his eyes. “Wait, you weren’t involved with the Hong convenience store incident last night, were you?”   
  
“Oh,” Lark said, surprised. “I…yes, that’s what happened.”   
  
“I see,” Detective Richter said. “And you’re sure it was just a rock that did that? Nothing strange happened other than that?”   
  
“Ugh, no, I mean…” Lark waffled. “It happened so fast, and I just…I was passed out for most everything after that.”  _ Do not narc on the gangsters. Do not narc on the gangsters! _   
  
Kal’s phone buzzed, and he glanced down at it. “Jace wants to know if you were abducted by aliens.” He was back to his usual calm demeanor, now that he knew Lark was alright.   
  
“Tell him I was,” Lark said absently, still in some kind of impromptu staring contest with the detective.   
  
“Well,” the detective said, pursing his lips. “I guess I’ll have to take your word for it.”   
  
“I guess you will,” Lark said, heart skipping a beat at the expression of sheer hatred that flitted across the detective’s face.   
  
The detective considered him for another strange moment before nodding to himself. “Mr. Lee, Mr. Jones, I’ll see myself out. Take care of that injury, Mr. Jones.”   
  
“Alright,” Lark nodded, stepping out of the way of the door.   
  
Lark turned to Kal as soon as the man left. “Did that seem weird to you, too?” Lark asked, sighing as he donned his house slippers and shuffled into the kitchen.   
  
“I’m just glad he wasn’t mad at me for trying to report you missing,” Kal said.   
  
Lark looked at Kal fondly. “You’re the best roommate, you know?”   
  
Kal nodded. He glanced down at his phone. “Now he’s asking about probes.”   
  
“Tell him I was.”


End file.
